Marks Mean Nothing
by Ara Reed
Summary: Random poem I wrote a while ago, but good if I say so myself :   MI6 mark Alex as their agent against his will, but in order to survive he has to compromise between the life he wants to lead and the one he has to lead.


**Hello! Wow its been a while since I've posted anything. Just thought I'd thank you real quick for reading. I wrote this a long long time ago, but I still find meaning in it, and I hope that you do too.**

**Enjoy XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider... but I know I'm not the only one that wishes she did...**

**Rated T for Teen because of violence and torture**

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><p><strong>Marks Mean Nothing<strong>

Blood dripped down a spine  
>Marring black against white<br>A number  
>Marked against innocence<br>It codes a human soul  
>Shaping everything he is<br>Into a short numeric symbol

Survivor  
>Savior<br>Slave

But his tattoo was applied with care  
>Instead of flat figures<br>The black ink was shaped  
>Numbers swirled 'round<br>Thin twisting lines  
>Entangling themselves<br>So they may never be separated

They weren't meant to be.  
>Some parts of him<br>Should never be forgotten  
>Bits and pieces<br>That seemed to have no meaning  
>Were really the only reason<br>He's lived this long.

He smiled, twiddling his thumbs  
>How pathetic,<br>The thought that settled  
>His "owner's" minds<br>That, perhaps, they owned him  
>Now that he'd been branded<br>Coded  
>He widened it to a toothy grin<br>Letting his captors fume in frustration.

After a while, the muscles relaxed  
>His disposition changed.<p>

Why should they be _allowed  
><em>Such triumphant thought?  
>Why should he suffer<br>Alone in the dark  
>As they goaded their prize?<br>Poked and prodded  
>They'd trapped a captured animal<br>Trained their already domesticated pet  
>So where was the pride?<p>

He'd saved lives  
>Wasn't to blame of the ones lost<p>

He'd sacrificed himself  
>For a country he'd misunderstood<p>

Was there ever a reward  
>More valuable than 'well done?'<br>Was he really a puppy  
>Whose only praise<br>Is a scratch behind the ear  
>Only to be sent back<br>Out into the cold and the wet  
>Abused but still blindly loyal?<p>

But then again  
>Did he really want more?<p>

Then he wouldn't be the hero  
>He'd always pictured himself to be.<br>He wouldn't be as selfless  
>As serving<br>As adventurous  
>If it was his <em>job<em>.  
>He'd no longer have that romance<br>That had kept him from going insane.

And he'd have to give in.

No!  
>His eyes set hard<br>Steeling against the stony wall  
>He'd given so much<br>He'd hold out  
>Until his very life ended<br>No matter the cost  
>Because he was a boy<br>With nothing to lose.

His family gone  
>His friends abandoned<br>(if they hadn't left him first)  
>His private life invaded<br>His professional one nonexistent.  
>The flat downtown<br>That housed him when he returned  
>Was just as empty as the rest<br>Nothing left.

He'd given up _everything  
><em>To protest their treatment  
>And what a waste<br>If he were to give up.

Steps clapped a confident return  
>The man from before crashed through<br>Expecting the smile  
>Instead of a pissed glare.<br>The careful tilt  
>That had the boy staring<br>From beneath his lids,  
>Muscles narrowed<br>Until his brow crinkled  
>And his jowls protruded.<br>It would have made Wolf proud.

His hands were still bound  
>The captor noted gladly.<br>The kid's biceps were contracted  
>His scarred chest flexed<br>The recently stitched knife wound  
>Still bleeding, unsmeared<br>No signs of tampering.

His lopsided grin lengthened.

"What to do  
>What to do<br>With a boy who  
>Just can't seem to feel<br>And has way too much to prove?"  
>He recited, while reaching<br>For another tool

Alex felt his new 'mark'  
>Burn through the pain<br>Of the bloody gash  
>On his stretched skin<p>

"You could stop with the bloody poetry."  
>He coughed<p>

The man once again  
>Heated the rod<br>Applied gentle pressure  
>And added his own design<br>Centered around his company's prind  
>Best not to ruin the mark.<p>

Alex let him finish.

The man straightened  
>Admiring the workmanship<br>On the child's bare abdomen  
>When Alex's fist flew out<br>Knocking him flat to the ground.

"If I ever  
>See you again,"<br>He whispered hoarsely  
>Allowing the first catch of emotion<br>To drip with warning  
>"You'll sleep in hell."<p>

Brand in hand  
>He wrenched open the door<br>Bringing the smoldering tip  
>Under the pretentious chin<br>Of a gray man  
>Prepared to knock.<p>

The moment hung  
>Anticipation thickening<br>Neither allowed themselves  
>To gain color<p>

A gray fist clutched the cooling stem  
>Gray lips grimacing at residual heat<br>Red fingers slipped away  
>Vermillion feet padded past<p>

What it all meant,  
>Whether to them<br>Or to him  
>He wasn't sure.<p>

He hadn't given in,  
>The threat clearly hanging<br>Between two monotone men  
>But his promise to a woman<br>Today was fulfilled.

He'd stay alive  
>It wouldn't be easy<br>But the battle was coming from all sides  
>And a single mistake could cost him is life.<p>

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><p><strong>Well, that's it :) Before you ask, yes I realize that its really stupid to tattoobrand a spy with an identification mark, and no, I don't know why Alex let that bastard finish before he knocked him out cold. I'd be willing to listen to some theories, though. Please review with any suggestions, or just to let me know if it was a good poem. It's hard to guage your own poetry, so I'd like to know the general opinion of it!**

**Thanks!**


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